Who Are You Again?

Chapter 11

Jae stood frozen in the middle of the atelier, her hands trembling as she took in the devastation before her. Everything was ruined. The sketches she had poured her heart into, the fabrics she had painstakingly chosen—all of it, destroyed. Her breath hitched as she traced her fingers over the ink-smudged pages, the slashed fabric rolls, and the overturned dress forms.

A slow rage burned in her chest.

She knew exactly who had done this. Claudette.

The woman had been a thorn in her side since day one, throwing subtle jabs, making condescending remarks, setting her up for failure. But this—this was deliberate sabotage.

Jae sucked in a deep breath and refused to break. If Claudette thought this would make her crumble, she was dead wrong.

She grabbed a fresh sketchbook, a pencil, and with calculated determination, she started sketching. Better designs. Stronger designs. She worked furiously, channeling her anger into every line and detail, the fabric choices, the embellishments—each one superior to the ones Claudette had ruined.

When Vivienne arrived later that afternoon, expecting a disaster, she instead found Jae standing tall, holding up her new collection of designs with fierce defiance.

Vivienne flipped through the pages, a slow smile curving her lips. “These are even better than before.”

Jae met her gaze, unwavering. “Good. Because I’m not stopping.”

By the end of the week, the entire board of Deveraux Haute Couture reviewed her designs. The verdict? Unanimous approval.

Jae wasn’t just given credit for fixing what was lost—she was promoted.

From intern to designer.

Claudette’s face was a perfect mix of disbelief and fury, but Jae barely spared her a glance. She had won.

Anessa hadn’t planned on going back to Jonah. But she had nowhere else to go.

After her humiliating fall at the masquerade and the unsettling encounter with Vivienne—**a woman she still didn’t understand her connection to—**Anessa had drowned her frustrations in champagne and found comfort in the arms of a mysterious stranger.

She had spent the night in luxury, tangled in silk sheets, indulging in the attention she so desperately craved.

But morning had come too soon.

And now, Jonah knew.

She stepped into their hotel suite hesitantly, her stomach twisting in knots. Jonah was sitting in an armchair, staring at a half-empty glass of bourbon, silent, motionless.

A chill ran down her spine.

“Where were you?” His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

Anessa swallowed hard. “I—I just needed time to myself. Last night was—”

Before she could finish, the glass shattered against the wall beside her.

She flinched, her heart pounding.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jonah growled, standing to his full height. His face was a mask of fury. “You reek of someone else’s cologne.”

Anessa took a shaky step back. “Jonah, I—”

His hand lashed out, gripping her chin painfully, forcing her to look at him. His nails dug into her skin. “You belong to me. Do you understand that?”

Tears stung her eyes. She nodded weakly.

Jonah released her with a shove, his lips curling in disgust. “You humiliated me.”

Anessa rubbed her sore jaw, biting her lip to keep from crying.

She had made a mistake coming back.

A mistake that would cost her dearly.

Lucas leaned against the wall of the dimly lit bar, watching as Jonah took another drink, his fingers tight around the glass. He had been tracking Jonah’s movements for days, and now it was time to deliver a message.

“You should leave Paris.”

Jonah scoffed, setting his drink down. “Or what?”

Lucas’ expression was cold, controlled. “Or you’ll regret staying.”

Jonah chuckled darkly. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

Lucas tilted his head slightly. “You should be.”

Jonah leaned forward, his smirk never faltering. “I’m not leaving without her.”

Lucas sighed. “I was hoping you’d be smarter than this.”

Before Jonah could react, Lucas leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“You’re playing with fire, Jonah. And next time, I won’t just be warning you.”

Jonah clenched his jaw as Lucas walked away, leaving him seething in his seat.

He wasn’t leaving.

And he would get Jae back.

No matter what it took.

Jonah’s plans to get close to Jae again were already in motion when Kellin found him first.

Jonah barely had time to register what was happening before a fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the cobblestone street.

Pain exploded through his face. He tasted blood.

He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw Kellin standing over him. His expression was cold, lethal.

“You don’t get to come near her,” Kellin said, his voice eerily calm.

Jonah wiped his mouth, sneering. “Big talk for someone who always stood in my shadow.”

Another punch—harder this time. Jonah choked on his own breath as Kellin grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up.

“You don’t own her, Jonah.” Kellin’s voice was a low growl. “She is free of you. And if you ever try to take that from her again, I will break every bone in your body.”

Jonah wheezed as Kellin shoved him back to the ground, humiliated and beaten.

The message was clear.

Kellin wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

And neither was Jae.

As Jonah lay on the cold ground, his mind raced.

Jae had slipped out of his grasp.

Kellin had become stronger.

Lucas was watching his every move.

And he was losing control.

But Jonah wasn’t done.

Not yet.

Because if there was one thing Jonah couldn’t stand—it was losing.

For the first time in years, Jae felt a sense of control over her life. The air in Paris felt lighter without Claudette’s constant sabotage and Jonah’s looming presence. She had won this round.

At Deveraux Haute Couture, her hard work had paid off. Her replacement designs—crafted in long, sleepless nights after Claudette’s sabotage—had exceeded expectations. Not only did they impress the senior designers, but they also caught the attention of an elite clientele.

Vivienne, always composed, had simply smirked with approval and said, “You’re ready.”

With that, Jae had been officially promoted from intern to designer. The weight of the title felt surreal, but she embraced it. She was no longer just surviving—she was rising.

Kellin remained by her side, silent but ever-watchful. His training had become merciless—hand-to-hand combat, weapons handling, evasive maneuvers—anything to ensure that, if Jonah came back, he wouldn’t just stop him. He’d end him.

For now, however, things were quiet. Too quiet.

Claudette’s downfall came swiftly and brutally.

It started with whispers in the hallways. Then came the security footage—clear as day—showing her slashing fabric, ripping sketches, and deliberately destroying Jae’s work.

The moment Vivienne saw it, her expression turned to ice.

She called Claudette into her office. The silence was suffocating.

“You’re fired,” Vivienne said simply, her voice devoid of emotion.

Claudette opened her mouth to argue, but Vivienne raised a hand. Dismissal.

“There’s nothing left to discuss,” she continued coolly. “Get out.”

Claudette’s hands shook with rage. She had always been able to manipulate, to twist situations in her favor. But not this time.

As she stormed out, her mind raced.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just who else wanted it too.

Jonah was a man who thrived on control.

And now, he had lost everything.

Jae had humiliated him. Kellin had beaten him. Lucas had threatened him.

And worst of all? Anessa had left him.

Jonah stared at the crumpled note in his hands, his knuckles white with fury.

I’m done.

Anessa was weak. He had given her everything—his money, his influence, his bed—and she had betrayed him.

The moment he learned she had signed a contract with Deveraux Couture’s fiercest competitor, something inside him snapped.

If she wanted to betray him, fine.

But Jae?

Jae belonged to him.

And he would make sure she never forgot it.

Jonah’s estate was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of bourbon and smoldering rage. Across from him, Claudette sat poised, her expression unreadable but her eyes burning with hatred.

“You want Jae gone,” she stated, voice smooth as silk. “So do I.”

Jonah exhaled slowly, swirling his drink. “She humiliated me.”

“She ruined me.”

They exchanged a long, knowing look.

Claudette leaned forward. “So let’s make sure she never wins again.”

Jonah smirked, a slow, dark curve of his lips.

“Tell me your plan.”

And just like that, a new storm began to take shape.

While the darkness stirred elsewhere, a rare moment of light graced Jae’s world.

Vivienne’s doctors had delivered the news she had not dared to hope for—her cancer was in recession.

Jae had never seen her grandmother cry, but that day, she did.

Vivienne took Jae’s hand, gripping it tightly.

“This gives us time,” she murmured. “More time for you to grow. More time for you to learn. More time to ensure that no one—” her voice darkened for a moment—“ever takes what’s yours again.”

Jae squeezed back. “Then we make the most of it.”

But even as she embraced this fragile peace, an unease settled in her stomach.

Because peace never lasted.

And the storm that was coming?

It would change everything.